Survival Instinct
by therisingharvestmoon
Summary: Spock/OC. Oneshot. Spock is stranded on a desolate, icy landscape and is bound by duty to help an injured woman survive, as well as reflect on his own emotions. Logically.


**a/n - This is my first _Star Trek_ fanfiction. It's such an overwhelmingly... Established fandom, so please be kind. I've only begun dipping my toes in. This story is a oneshot about Spock and an unnamed OC. The main purpose of this is that there isn't really that much of a romantic connection, I just needed a launchpad to detail my opinions of Spock, and gauge how to write him through a short story detailing his Vulcan/humanity crisis. Another reason was to make it kind of a you/Spock story, so that all types might engage if not too much was revealed about the character. Please enjoy. I'd call it bittersweet.**

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Survival Instinct.**  
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First Officer Spock crouched down in the snow, on high alert due to the freezing weather and the blurry shape he saw ahead. His unusually warm body was working twice as hard to keep the cold out, as he had not had time to adorn any extra protective clothing after their search shuttle had crashed in the icy tundra. Creeping forward slowly, he soon recognised the figure to be a human. Female, if he was not mistaken. He had scouted around the landscape in search for assistance or resources. Despite his discomfort, Spock would be able to withstand the conditions longer than the rest of the search team. Closer now, Spock could see there was mud on her arm and the leg that stuck out at an angle, caked with blood and blades of grass. His sensitive ears picked up a faint beeping, muffled by the icy wind. His own personal communicator gave a sharp peal. The red human blood stood out against the powdery white snow. Even closer and Spock could tell the same was of her face. Her eyes were open and she was staring blankly ahead at him.

'I have received your distress signal. Are you all right?'

Something flickered in her face like life being turned on. Her eyes found the Vulcan without moving her head. Maybe she was ill and had a fever? What was a Vulcan doing here? She had never met one before, and was slightly put off by his indifferent monotone. Maybe she was hallucinating. She tried to move and pain rippled across her midsection. Her head fell back down with a dull thud.

Spock's nostrils found the dank stench of sweat, and he tried to inhale as little as possible. She blinked, clearly frightened. Without a reply, there was little Spock could do. But neither could he leave her here. Tentatively, he stepped forward to touch her forehead with his warm, dry hand. It was cold as stone. Though many degrees warmer than his human counterparts, Spock knew very well that this human female was colder than she should be. He could therefore gauge the level of her injuries. He postulated that she had been here for several hours, and therefore was most likely suffering hypothermia. It was possible the female was unable to speak. Gently, he lifted the edge of the sleeping bag and saw that her shirt was soaking and filthy.

'What happened?'

Though a genius who took his position on the _U.S.S Enterprise _very seriously, Spock still had a long track ahead of him in the way of dealing with emotions, experiences and sensitivity. The young woman looked at him properly for the first time now and opened her mouth, looking rather like a startled fish. She shuddered and began to back away from him – though rather feebly – falling on to her back and sliding her shoulders desperately against the icy terrain. She had hardly moved an inch and the large gashes in her stomach tore. She whimpered. The Vulcan's expressionless face and harshly angled eyebrows provided little comfort.

'I am Commander Spock from the _U.S.S Enterprise._' He tried in what he assumed was a more gentle tone.'There is no reason for you to fear me.'

Still staring up at him with her ink-blue eyes, the female drew her legs up to her body and tried to drag the tangle of blankets with her. Her limbs were so stiff they would barely move. Spock himself was very cold, and longed to move further into the cave a few hundred feet past this cliff face, where there was warmth from his fire. Instead, the wounded human was trying to scramble desperately further and further across the stark white tundra back onto the sheer rock face.

His black, prominent eyebrows drew together as he frowned.

'No one is going to hurt you.' Spock did his best to make his tone sound like one of assurance. 'Please, let me help you.'

Though wary of him, she nodded weakly. This was logical, despite the current stress she was under. Compliance would make his job entirely simpler.

She watched as the thin, aquiline face drew closer to her own, and felt his hands gentle close around her arms. His grip was so warm she whimpered again and tried to draw closer to him, frozenly numb. Soon, she was drawn to his chest. It was such a contrast of temperature that the side touching him almost stung. The sway of his gait slowly rocked her into unconsciousness. Spock did not look down as he carried the human to the shelter.

When he carried her into the firelight, her body seemed to sag lifelessly. By the time he set her down and fire was beginning to crackle and glow, which meant that he would have to find some more flammable materials soon. Leaning her up against a colossal stalactite, Spock watched the girl as he circled the cavern and gathered any stray wood and loam from the cave floor. She did not stir. This was not a comforting behaviour.

Spock returned, sitting comfortably cross-legged in front of his ward. He observed her lying slumped against the cave's jutting, rock tooth and noticed her she had opened her eyes blearily. She groaned. Her gaze was now on her midsection, which was torn quite profusely. There were still the remains of her thermal sleeping bag around her legs and her backpack clung to her top jacket. The girl noticed the Vulcan was staring at her, and looked up to meet his gaze.

'W-w-we should be safe here. It h-h-h-hates f-fire.' Despite the beads of sweat forming on her brow, her teeth chattered.

'Can you expanding upon why you theorise this particular element has such an effect?'

Her eyes darted around the cave, as if to confirm something. 'I'm not sure what it _is._ It attacked us… It usually prefers the open plains because of its size, but I'm not sure about its sleeping arrangements.'

Spock was still in thought.

'How long ago did you see this creature?'

'A f-f-f-few hours I t-think. I can't tell if its morning or n-n-night.'

He stared at her for a few moments more from beneath his dark fringe, and then stood so quickly it made her jump.

'I apologize.' He said in the same flat voice. 'May I now assist you with your wounds? I believe it would be imperative to your immediate and long term health.'

His face was a blank mask as he stood patiently. She hoped she hadn't offended him – not that she's ever find out.

'Please.' Her voice was a weak husk.

Bending down next to the young woman, his nostrils flared as once again they filled with the unbearable odour of human suffering. This was Spock's main concern for himself. He was not judgemental or vain - his delicate senses could simply not handle the smell of decay. It was something he was not accustomed to as a Vulcan, and something which elicited a far-away sadness in his weaker nature. 'Do you have spare clothing to change into?'

The question seemed to throw her for a bit, and then gingerly, she leant forward raising her arms slightly, not wanting to further tear the slashes across her abdomen and chest.

'It will help in the disinfection.'

Spock carefully prised the satchel off her shoulders with his warm, slender fingers. Inside, he found a pair of black pants and a tunic made of real cotton. As he suspected, the wounds were not fatal. However, it was logical to acquire new clothing made from natural fibres. Not a carnal thought crossed the Vulcan's mind when she carefully removed her clothing, though his capillaries seemed to expand due to the nature of the situation.

Slumped against the frigid rock, the young human allowed Spock to inject her with a hypo from his small leather emergency kit. She could not lift her arms, so he tore a strip of bandage and dipped it in antiseptic and melted snow, dabbing the tears in her skin. He sensed her awkwardness, and decided that this was an appropriate time to engage in conversation.

'I enquire about your presence at this location.' He said softly, averting his gaze from her more private areas. He dabbed quickly and she winced.

'I'm a b-b-biologist. I was cataloguing the wildlife on Nexar VI and I d-didn't find a thing. Then I h-heard this n-noise… It's so dark h-here, I think it was night. T-there… Oh my God.' She went pale and suddenly grabbed the Vulcan's arm. 'I didn't even think. There was an understudy they sent with me… Luke… Oh my God…'

Her touch and Earth profanities startled him slightly. For a moment she simply stared, then released his arm when she remembered herself. Spock leant back slightly and handed her clothes back silently. Though she struggled weakly, he would allow her to dress herself. Despite the intense control Spock had over his emotions and his empathetic telepathy, human beings were unpredictable. Her touch had jolted something in him, as the hands were known Vulcan erogenous zones. Innocent as his rescue was, it was difficult to be in such an intimate situation with a human outside the _Enterprise. _Still, it was his duty as a Starfleet officer and his obligation to his heritage to help this young woman. Spock suddenly realised she had been crying and shivering. She sat with her head in between her knees and he could see the back of her neck was covered in a sheen of sweat. 'Uhhhh.'

'Is there some way I can assist you?'

She slowly looked at the Vulcan named Spock, surprised to see a steely look on his face. 'Please… It's so cold.'

For not the first time, he felt torn. Indecision was one of the rare emotions that Spock could not control. He observed the sodden wood, barely glowing any more.

'It seems vital to increase your body temperature. By nature, I am approximately thirty to forty degrees warmer than you. It only seems logical that I physically assist you, if you permit the action.'

Though spoken so very straightforward, she could not help sense his awkwardness, and therefore feel bashful on her own account. It was only human, after all.

'I d-d-do.' She chattered.

Swiftly, the Vulcan moved toward her and though he was still feet away, she felt his body heat. Steeling himself against the embrace, he gently wrapped his arms around her. For a few moments, her body spasmed, rejecting the opposing temperature. After a few minutes, she was still shuddering. But she was warm.

'I feel hot.' She mumbled deliriously.

Spock frowned. 'I suspect you have a fever.' He mumbled into her hair. 'You must keep warm. You will die if you become too cold.'

She was certain of it. She barely believed the scenario, but she believed what the Vulcan said.

'It hurts.' Her voice was weak and husky.

Spock felt as though it was an appropriate time to say something of reassurance and comfort.

'The wounds do not appear too severe. Infection is the likely cause of your current delirium. But may I suggest the thought…' He cleared his throat. 'I am certain my fellow Starfleet comrades will track the signal of your distress or at the very least, the location of my personal communicator.' He sighed, trying to sound soothing. 'There is no logical reason to fret.'

She twisted her head to look up at the Vulcan's emotionless features. 'I have to tell a family that their seventeen year… year old… son… son is… is dead. Because of me.' She was whimpering again. 'Is it _logical _that I should fret over that?'

She coughed and tried to suppress the sobs and ache in her chest. Perhaps it was her imagination, but Spock seemed to draw her closer.

'It is.' He murmured into her hair.

As the embers died, Spock became wary if her previous comment. He heard a strange call once or twice in the night, but it was very far away. His concern grew for the crew, but logically, there was an 86.6 per cent chance they would be totally unharmed.

The young woman's thoughts were at first plagued by horrifying images of talons and claws, and a lifeless carcass being dragged away. Spock sensed this and tried to soothe her, moving his warm hands to her shoulders. The power of his shallow mind meld and fatigue soon allowed her to slip into complete rest.

He did not sleep for the entire night, listening as small snow mice scuttled around the cave, occasionally upsetting stones. He did not need to sleep. A strange, primal feeling arose when he looked down to watch the woman sleep. Unlike Vulcans and humans – who willingly engaged in sexual intimacies – Spock felt that his emotional attraction to women compromised his natural Vulcan lust. This was particularly prominent during his Pon Farr, which arose at a rate of approximately every 4.3 years. Spock could not deny his instinctual behaviours during these times, when he would engage with a willing female. However, as it had been with Nurse Chapel, his release would have emotional consequences for his bond mate. His Vulcan side could be sated during Pon Farr, but the human half deeply wished for a female presence in the space in between. Human Spock's emotions were shattered as he could not pursue a relationship. His Vulcan emotions became out of control when these females tried.

Spock actually jumped when his communicator began beeping. On this particular subject, it was easy for him to become lost in thoughts. Kirk was tracking him. They would be fine.

The pre-dawn morning was freezing, and she huddled closer to him. These thoughts had lowered his barriers and he found he rather enjoyed the sensation.

'Spock?' The weak voice came.

'Yes?'

'Please don't move.'

He gathered her in his arms once more. She sat up, having recovered slightly after this period of rest.

'Thank you, Spock.'

He nodded.

'May I thank you properly?'

Spock frowned. 'I believed your initial thanks to be sincere.' His eyebrow quirked.

Out of no where, her hands gripped his face and she kissed him. He froze, not wishing to engage with her, nor pull away. This did not come as a surprise and she continued to softly kneed his lips with her own and stroke his face and hair. She did not consider it to be a romantic gesture, he sensed. Nor were her feelings hurt at his present lack of or future reciprocation. She merely wanted to give him this experience. When she drew away, his link to her emotions seem to close up like a flower at dusk. Her eyes simply stared at him.

Later on the _Enterprise _when the woman was being attended to, Spock gathered her details from McCoy. While she remained unconscious, he informed the family of the young male biologist's death, explaining his female superior's current situation. He could handle their anguish for her just as he had handled the cold. He felt more and felt the cold more than these fragile humans. Spock knew the cruel irony in desiring symbols of affection he could only be given and never give. He would be the one to take the fall, and in return they would allow the human in him to survive by the way of friendship, or a simple kiss.

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**Review!**


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